


Broken, Beat, and Scarred

by my_angry_angel



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_angry_angel/pseuds/my_angry_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce goes missing. The rest of the team assumes he's transformed, until they get their hands on a security tape showing him being kidnapped. They spend the next day and a half searching for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken, Beat, and Scarred

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Avengers, so it will contain spoilers. Phil's alive, though he did get stabbed. Following Loki's punishment, Thor returned to Midgard. S.H.I.E.L.D. moved their headquarters into Stark Tower, and the team started living there so they'd be more ready in the event of another crisis.

Monday, 3 p.m.  
Monday morning came and went. Each week, one of the Avengers would go shopping, always on Monday. Coulson liked them to finish early so he had time to clean up any mess they made while out. He really only had to worry about that when Thor or Bruce went shopping though. The rest of the team managed to avoid any collateral damage. It was Clint’s turn to go, but nobody had seen him all day. 

Mid-afternoon found Barton pounding on the scientist’s door. Banner had locked himself in his room, and was blasting Broadway tunes as loud as the speakers could. Tony made sure that was deafening. It took a few minutes for the music to reach a part quiet enough that Bruce could hear the knocking. He turned the music off, opened the door a crack, and poked his head out, looking half-asleep. “What’s up?” he asked. “Emergency?”

“Shopping,” Clint replied, holding out a set of car keys and a grocery list. “It’s my turn to go, but I was hoping you'd go for me. I'm kinda busy today.”

“Oh, right,” Banner said, running a hand through his hair. “Sure.” He took the list and keys from the archer and added, “Let me just get cleaned up and I’ll go.” He closed the door and started quickly cleaning up the results of the day. As he headed down to the garage, he looked over the list. Thankfully, only the female agents bought tampons, so he didn’t have to embarrass himself by getting some of those. His eyes stopped at one line of the list. Fifteen boxes of pop tarts. That couldn’t be healthy.

Down in the garage, he fiddled with the remote on the keys, trying to figure out which car he was to take. The lights on a full-size SUV flashed once, a high-pitched beep echoed through the garage. At least he’d have room to put all the food. And it was bound to be quieter than the last car he’d had to take. That one hadn’t had a muffler, so it was ear-shatteringly loud. Bruce was surprised they still had it, honestly.

Careful to avoid the other cars, he pulled out of the garage and started toward the store, his mind still on the tests he’d been running before Clint came along.

#

Monday, 8 p.m.  
Phil glanced up at the clock for what must have been the hundredth time. Eight oh six. Five hours since Clint had shown up and informed him Bruce had gone in his place. He really needed to get Fury to send out a memo telling everyone that everybody had to take their turn shopping, and nobody was allowed to go in anybody's place. He just hoped Banner hadn’t forgotten again and gone back to work. He’d been meaning to go check, but crisis after crisis had demanded his attention, so he hadn’t been able to make it. He filed the last piece of paperwork away and hurried out of his office before anybody else could waylay him.

The scientist’s room was quiet, so that was a good sign. He knocked and received no answer, then remembered how tired Bruce had looked when he’d stopped by earlier. So maybe he’d gone to bed. Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, he opened the door.

Empty.

With a succinct nod, he closed the door and started downstairs to go home for the night. Just before stepping outside, he stopped and called Bruce to tell him to leave the keys on his desk. The phone rang twice, and then went to voicemail. Odd. It wasn’t like Bruce to ignore his phone. Coulson hung up and tried again. It went straight to voicemail that time. Maybe he just didn’t have service. Deep inside, Coulson knew that wasn’t true. Bruce and Tony had fiddled with everybody’s phones, modified them so they could pick up even the weakest signal from any carrier.

He tried calling him one more time, and left a message when it went to voicemail that time. “Banner, Coulson. Call me when you get this message. I’m heading home for the night, so just leave the keys on my desk when you get back.” Flipping the phone closed and nodding to one of the guards, he stepped out of Stark Tower, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

#

Tuesday, 5 a.m.  
Phil’s alarm clock went off all too early for his liking. His phone had rang several times since during the night and he’d woken up with every one. None of the calls were from Bruce. He’d tried a few more times during the night to call the scientist, with the same result every time. On the way into work, he stopped and grabbed a cup of coffee and a package of powdered doughnuts, his usual morning fare.

At HQ, his desk had a few piles of paperwork on it, but all three were neatly stacked, with obviously nothing under any of them. He usually came in to a few piles every morning, so those didn’t bother him. What did concern him was the lack of keys.

Tossing the doughnuts onto his desk, he headed down to the tech department and asked them to track the SUV he’d sent Bruce in. At three twenty-two the afternoon before, it had been at the closest Costco. It hadn’t moved since. If Banner had Hulked out in the store, they’d have heard about it by now. Someone would have called Phil, and at least one news network would have gotten wind of it and run a story.

Coulson went back down to his car and drove to the Costco to make sure the SUV was actually there, not just the tracking device. It was there, parked in the exact stall the tech had told him. There was a security camera on a nearby light pole, and it seemed every other pole leading to the door. When the store opened, he’d be able to find out a little more about what had happened to Bruce. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t open for another five hours.

He got back in his car and called Fury to brief him on the situation. Within minutes, the rest of the team showed up, with several different levels of alertness. Tony looked like he hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. Steve had probably woken up at about the same time Coulson had, and if the still drying sweat was any indication, had been down at the gym. Natasha was used to waking up at all hours, but didn’t necessarily like it. So she was awake, but irritable. Clint looked like he hadn’t even been to sleep. Thor had doubtless been awake, probably playing a game on one of the few computers he was still allowed to touch.

Gathered around the SUV, Coulson told them all what he knew, which was pitifully little. When he was finished, they went back to headquarters to discuss their options, Romanoff driving the SUV. Coulson called around to every news station in the city to find out if they’d gotten word of a giant green monster rampaging through the city. They all denied it, and one asked Phil to get in touch with them if that did happen.

Back at the tower, everybody tried calling Bruce, though nobody really expected him to answer by that point. Clint suggested that he’d changed and gone somewhere to avoid hurting anyone. They’d probably all get calls within a couple hours from a very apologetic Bruce. Though nobody said it, they all hoped he was right.

The next five hours passed slowly. They gave up calling Banner, though everybody frequently checked their phones to make sure they hadn’t missed a call from him. At nine thirty, Coulson went back to Costco to get their security tapes. When he returned, everybody seemed relieved, like the crisis was already over.

They watched the footage together, huddled in Clint’s room, which had the biggest TV. Coulson fast-forwarded until Bruce pulled up, inwardly cursing the low resolution of the camera. The image was blurry, but Banner could be seen parking and getting out. They watched that tape until he walked off camera, and then switched to the next one. Again, Phil skipped to when he showed up.

That tape showed a car pulling into an empty spot between two cars. Two men got out and were seen talking over the top of the car. As soon as Bruce passed, they stepped up behind him and grabbed him. Before Banner could start struggle, one injected him with something. He started trying to free himself, but his movements were sluggish. After a moment, they sped up, and he seemed to be making progress. He was changing.

Then the other man injected him as well. Immediately, he slumped in their arms. The two men loaded Bruce into the back of the car and drove off.

Shocked, Phil stopped the video. The situation was worse than any of them had feared. Someone out there had something that could knock the _Hulk out_. And they had Bruce.

Yes, the situation was worse. Much worse.

#

Monday, 4:30 p.m.  
Bruce blinked his eyes open, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered, he’d been going into the store. His head heavy, he slowly looked around, terribly confused. He was seated in a chair, his hands tied together behind him, his legs tied to the chair legs. The room was circular, flattened on one end, with a single wooden door set in the wall there. He could break that door down easily and get away. Whoever had grabbed him obviously didn’t know who he was.

It wouldn’t even be hard to change. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the fear he felt. But try as he might, he couldn’t keep his attention on his fear. His body went cold as he realized he couldn’t change. So they had known who he was and had done something to him to keep him from changing. If he could just figure out what that was, he might be able to counteract it and escape.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Banner,” a voice said behind him. He twisted in the chair, trying to see who it was, but couldn’t turn that far. “Don’t try to call your angry friend now. We’ve taken measures to keep him away.” The man slowly walked around to where Bruce could see him. He looked familiar, but Banner couldn’t put a name with his face. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to give me all the security codes for your little hideaway so I can get to Stark’s suits. Once I have them, I’ll return you to them. Of course, they’ll know how much you helped me. And if you lie to me or try to resist, you will, of course, be persuaded. Do we have an understanding?”

Bruce worked his jaw for a moment, trying to moisten his mouth enough to speak. After a few seconds, he mumbled, “Go to hell.”

The man gave a soft ‘tsk’ and shook his head. “I was afraid it would come to this.” He gave a loud whistle and two brutish men entered the room. “Give him a couple minutes. See if he’s willing to talk then.” He stepped back and leaned against the wall, close to the door as the other two men stepped forward.

“You really think your men can beat the information out of me?” Bruce asked. “They start hitting me, I change, beat them up, and get out of here.”

“Not quite how this is going to work, Dr. Banner,” one of the muscles said as he knelt to untie one of Bruce’s legs. As soon as it was free, he kicked at the man’s face. The larger man caught Banner’s ankle effortlessly and held it still. No matter how he twisted and pulled, Bruce couldn’t get his leg free.

With a malicious smirk, the man placed one hand by Banner’s knee, the other still on his ankle. Bruce realized his intent a second before the man snapped his leg.

Giving a howl of pain, the scientist arched his back strongly, adrenaline quickly burning off the remains of whatever they’d given him earlier. His vision went white as the Hulk violently took over.

#

Monday, 6 p.m.  
When Bruce woke up, his leg hurt so bad he was nauseous. His head and one arm were outside the door, and he saw why his captor hadn’t put him in a more secure room. The door was set in the end of a thirty-foot long hallway, which tapered down until it was barely larger than the door. Too small for the Hulk to get through, and even his strength couldn’t overcome thirty feet of stone. So the only way he could get out was as Bruce, but he couldn’t walk as himself.

After a few seconds, he started dragging himself toward the other end of the hallway, pained whimpers escaping his throat as every motion jostled his leg. Before he made it more than a few feet, a door at the end of the hall opened up and his captors came out. One of the muscles injected him with the same stuff they’d given him before, then they picked him up and carried him back into the room. They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor and moved to tie his hands behind his back.

“Now then, Dr. Banner,” the man from before said. “Are you ready to give me what I want?”

Bruce glared at the man, pain and the drug--sedative, he finally realized--making him appear fuzzy. “N-never,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

The man snapped his fingers and the two muscles started kicking Bruce wherever they could.

#

Tuesday, 4 p.m.  
The team had spent the last five hours trying to contact everybody who’d been at the store when Bruce was taken. Time and again, one of them remarked on how lucky they were the scientist had gone to a store requiring memberships, so even if someone had paid in cash, they had a record of who it was and when. They called everybody who’d checked out in the ten minutes before Bruce pulled up, hoping someone had seen him.

But, of course, Banner liked parking as far from the store as he could, so nobody had been anywhere near where he was grabbed. The tech team was working on the footage, trying to get it sharp enough that they could make out a license plate. The footage was in black and white, so they couldn’t even make out the color of the car, and the body was too generic to get the exact model just by looking at it. The number of dark sedans in the city were astronomical, so the license plate number was the only thing they had to go by.

Eventually Tony had a breakthrough and suggested they try to track Bruce’s phone. He’d have suggested it earlier, but he’d been too tired and busy to think of it. The called the cell phone company, who were all too happy to help out. Unfortunately, the phone was powered down, so it couldn’t be traced through GPS. In a last ditch effort, they pulled a couple techs off of analyzing the video and put them on tracking Bruce’s phone. That proved fruitless, however; after a couple of hours, the techs gave up. They’d checked every satellite S.H.I.E.L.D. had access to--and a few they didn’t--but couldn’t locate the phone.

Everybody stayed up late that night, hoping for news, trying to think of any other way to help. Finally, close to midnight, they were told that the techs had managed to get a clear license plate number. It was registered in Minnesota, so it was likely Bruce hadn’t been taken to the owner’s house, but with the number, the technicians could review traffic cameras to track the car. It would take a while, and wasn’t one hundred percent accurate, but it was the best lead they had.

Most of them went to bed once they got the news, but Clint stayed up replaying the moment when Bruce was grabbed over and over. He tried to put himself in Banner’s shoes, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t begin to imagine the fear his friend must have been in. After draining his second cup of coffee for the night, he went to get a refill. Thor was in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry.

“Hey, big guy,” Clint said as he filled his cup. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nay,” the god replied, turning around. “I hunger and worry for Banner.”

“You and me both, buddy. But we’ll find him. The tech team’s good.” Clint flopped down in one of the chairs with a soft sigh.

“Something troubles you,” Thor said, sitting next to him. “Sell me your thoughts.”

Barton shrugged, playing his fingers around the rim of his cup. “It was my turn to go shopping," he said after a long pause. "I asked Bruce to go for me. I'm better at hand to hand combat than he is, so I might have been able to fight them off."

“You mustn’t blame yourself, my friend,” the thunderer said, clapping a large hand down on Clint’s shoulder. “You cannot change the past so it does no good to wonder if things would be different if you had done something else in the past.”

“I know you’re right, but--“

“Now come,” Thor interrupted, standing. “You and Banner watch movies together, yes?” Without waiting for an answer, the god grabbed Clint’s arm and started pulling him out of the kitchen. "I will be your movie friend this night."

The archer didn’t think he could focus on a movie, especially with Thor there, but once the movie started playing---Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom--he was able to take his mind off the guilt he felt. It helped that the god had so many questions about the movie.

By the time the movie ended, Clint was exhausted. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, and had been woken up entirely too early Monday morning after only a few hours of sleep. When the credits started rolling, he closed his eyes to rest them. He was asleep within seconds.

#

Wednesday, 7 a.m.  
After dealing with that morning’s paperwork--the other agents knew he’d be stressed due to Banner’s kidnapping so they’d given him less than usual--Coulson went to talk to the techs to see what how far they’d tracked the car. Tony was already awake helping them. At first, even with Stark’s help, their progress seemed pitiful--they’d only managed to get a mile from the store--but when they explained how much work they had to do, Phil gained a appreciation of how far they’d come. A couple times, the car had turned at an intersection where there wasn’t a light, so the team had to check every traffic light nearby in the hopes that they’d find it.

He went to find the rest of the team to update them on the progress. Natasha and Steve would be downstairs, so he went to Clint’s and Thor’s rooms first. The archer was, not surprisingly, still asleep, though he woke up when Coulson mentioned Bruce. After hearing about the development, he dressed quickly and went to the computer lab to see if he could help out at all.

To Phil’s shock, Thor was also asleep. He knew that the god needed little sleep, he’d just always assumed the thunderer got a few minutes per night instead of sleeping all night once a month. Or however often he slept. Thor seemed relieved that they were close to finding Bruce, but knew better than to go try to help the techs. One of his first days with the Avengers, Tony had tried to introduce him to the wonders of e-mail. When the computer loudly declared, “You’ve got mail,” the god had nearly thrown the machine through the wall. After that, he’d been banned from the computer lab.

As he thought, he found Steve still in the gym attempting to murder a punching bag. He told Coulson that he planned on spending most of the day in the gym, only leaving for meals, bathroom breaks, and if something came up. He didn’t need to say that by something, he meant if they found Bruce. Phil knew that everybody coped with stress differently, and he knew that working out was the super soldier’s way of handling it.

Natasha was just coming up from the shooting range when Coulson left the gym to go look for her. She took the news without comment, always the professional, though he knew her well enough to know she was happy.

After telling her, he went back up to the computer lab to monitor the work. They’d created a map and had it projected onto the wall. Everybody was helping out, including several people who weren’t computer techs. In the time that he’d been gone, with the extra help, they’d found four more stop lights, and discovered a fifth just after he walked in. With the way they celebrated, a person would have thought they’d just found El Dorado. Wanting to help, he sat at a spare computer and started analyzing footage. Natasha came in not long after he sat down and started helping as well. They even allowed Thor into the lab, though they didn’t let him touch a computer.

#

Wednesday, 7 a.m.  
To say Bruce had passed a rough day and two nights would be an understatement. The men had come in every couple hours to see if he was ready to talk. Each time he refused, and they left him more bruised and bloody than before. When they weren’t beating him up, he was in too much pain to sleep anyway, despite the sedative that they’d renewed every few hours. By Wednesday morning, he didn’t think he could last much longer, even knowing that his captors couldn’t kill him.

Along with his broken leg, three fingers on his left hand were broken, and he was pretty sure his nose was too. It was clogged with dried blood to the point where he couldn’t breathe through it. Most of his ribs were broken, or at least bruised, and his right wrist was stiff and swollen, though not broken. His body was also covered in cuts and bruises, which would have been bad alone, but were relatively minor compared to his other injuries.

He’d been fed and given water, of course, but that morning, just minutes after eating, he’d thrown the food back up. A few minutes later, his captors entered the room and the muscles hauled him up into the chair. “Are you ready to talk yet, Dr. Banner?” the man in the suit asked, standing right in front of him. Bruce’s only answer was silence. The man backhanded him hard, cutting the scientist’s cheek against his teeth. “Why are you so loyal to them, Doctor? You mean nothing to them.”

“Tha’s not true,” Bruce murmured through gritted teeth. “They care ‘bout me an’ they’ll come for me.”

“We can keep this up as long as we need to, Doctor. How much longer can you last?”

“Long ‘nough,” Bruce mumbled, glaring up at the man, who nodded to the other two. One of them broke a fourth finger effortlessly before shoving him back to the floor. Bruce gave a cry of pain as he landed on his broken leg. Like before, the pain was enough to trigger a change, and his vision went white as he transformed.

#

Wednesday, 10 a.m.  
Bruce woke up in the doorway again, and instantly wished he could pass out again. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hurt, and he could barely breathe his chest was so sore. He lay as still as he could, hoping the men didn’t notice he was awake. If they thought he was still unconscious, they wouldn’t hurt him.

Within minutes, the muscles came out and pulled Bruce back into the room, one of them purposely jostling his broken leg as they set him down. For the second time that morning, Bruce felt himself transforming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

#

Wednesday, 10 p.m.  
Their progress had sped up significantly with the extra help, and they quickly tracked the car out of the city. Then it slowed again as they had to hack into private security cameras. At nine thirty, they got into the security feed of a paranoid old man and got footage of the car pulling into a driveway, and the men carried Bruce inside. While most of the agents celebrated, the Avengers went to get their gear, then to a jet. Coulson stayed behind to review the footage to make sure whoever had Bruce didn’t move him.

Clint could hardly sit still on the way to the house. If Coulson was quiet for too long, the archer asked him what the status was, despite the fact that Phil told them he would notify them if anything changed.

They got to the house and the bowman jumped out of the jet well before they landed. Tony and Steve were next, and thanks to Stark’s suit, they caught up with Clint quickly. Thor and Natasha followed, prepared to provide cover fire. They got inside without meeting any opposition, and split up to search the house from the top down.

The top floor was empty, giving everybody a bad feeling about the house. They decided it would be safer if they stuck together in case they walked into an ambush. The main floor was just as vacant as the top story. Tony was in constant contact with Phil, and he told them all, “Coulson says nobody’s came or went since they brought Bruce here.”

Steve nudged the door to the basement open with his shield, and instantly had to take cover behind it as a burst of gunfire met him. Tony fired at the two gunmen, killing them before ducking behind Captain America again. Steve and Tony crept down the stairs, Thor a few feet behind, while Clint and Natasha stayed at the top in case the others needed cover fire. But they made it down without incident, so the two at the top followed the other three down.

Like at the top of the stairs, Steve opened the door at the bottom while the other four kept clear of the door. When no gunfire met them, they proceeded through the doorway, weapons at the ready. Bruce was seated in a chair at the other end of the long hallway, behind what used to be a door. To say he looked awful would be putting it lightly. He looked very much like he’d spent the last two and a half days being tortured.

Aware that there could be more gunmen waiting, the team proceeded quickly but cautiously down the hallway. When they were ten feet from the door, Clint called the scientist’s name. Then a man stepped up behind Banner and held a gun to his temple. “I think that’s far enough.”

#

Wednesday, 10 p.m.  
When Bruce heard the jet, he couldn’t help but be hopeful. After so long, he’d started to believe his captor’s words. Maybe the others didn’t care about him. If he really was important to them, why was it taking so long for them to come get him.

Then he heard the familiar roar of the jet’s engines. And he knew they’d finally come to his rescue. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They just hadn’t been able to come get him. Seconds after he heard the engines, his captors came into the room and the larger men pulled him up into the chair. “You two hold them off,” the one in the suit ordered. “I’ll stay here and make sure this one doesn’t pull any funny business.” The muscles nodded and disappeared through the door they’d come in through. “That’ll be your friends coming to die.”

“You really think you c-can kill them?” Bruce asked with a soft cough. His voice had lost much of its defiance over the last two days. He just sounded weary. Banner heard the gunfire, and the familiar pinging of Steve’s shield blocking them. Tony’s repulsors sounded next, and the guns fell quiet. “Still think you’re g-getting out of here alive?”

“Not done yet,” the man replied, pulling a length of cloth from his pocket. He shoved it in Bruce’s mouth and moved to stand near the door, where he wouldn’t be seen. The single bare bulb in the hallway showed the team push through the door, cautiously as always. Banner could only watch them come. The light shining into the room was too dim for them to be able to see his face clearly.

He glanced over at his captor, who was still standing against the wall. When he looked back to the others, he saw that they were getting close to the door. Barton called out to him, and his captor moved behind him. “I think that’s far enough.” Bruce closed his eyes as he felt a gun pressed to his head.

“Hammer,” Tony said derisively. “Still haven’t given up?”

So that was his captor’s name. As soon as he heard the name, everything clicked into place.

“Not until I get your designs, Mr. Stark,” Hammer replied. “I think it’s time for you all to lower your weapons.” Bruce opened his eyes to see everybody ease out of their combat stances.

“Tell us what you want and let him go,” Steve ordered, his hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, I already have what I want,” Hammer said, gripping in Banner’s hair and pulling his head back. “See, Brucey here has been singing like a bird since this morning.”

“You’re lying,” Natasha said. “Some of those cuts are too fresh to be from this morning. If he’d talked, you’d have stopped hitting him.”

“Smart girl,” Hammer replied. “But maybe he lied to me.”

They continued going back and forth but Bruce tuned them out, staring at Clint. When the archer finally met his gaze, Banner gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. They’d watched a movie a couple nights before--he couldn’t remember the name--where a man had taken a hostage and was in a standoff with the police. The hostage had nodded and the police fired on the man. The captive had died, unfortunately, but Bruce was prepared for that possibility.

Hawkeye gave a tiny nod in return and turned his attention back to Hammer. As soon as the CEO’s attention was focused elsewhere, the archer fired. The arrow caught Hammer just below the elbow, and his arm jerked back, finger convulsing on the trigger. The bullet grazed the back of Banner’s head, leaving a white-hot trail of pain across his scalp. Before Hammer could retaliate, Clint fired off two more arrows, one catching him in his other arm, the second knocking the gun away.

As soon as the pistol was out of the CEO’s hand, the rest of the team rushed into the room. Natasha moved to cut the rope holding the dazed scientist’s hands, while Thor and Steve went to detain Hammer. Clint dropped his bow and punched the kidnapper as hard as he could, square in the nose. “If you _ever_ touch him again,” the archer yelled, hitting the other man again, “I’ll kill you, you fucker!” Natasha pulled the gag from Bruce’s mouth, and Banner whispered the archer’s name softly.

Clint ignored the scientist as he punched Hammer a third time. He cocked his fist back to hit the CEO once more, but Steve caught his arm and held him back. “Go take care of Bruce, Agent Barton. Now.” There was no arguing with the super soldier. Not while he was using his Captain America voice. Leaving Hammer to the other two men, Barton went to kneel next to Bruce and Natasha.

Together they eased Banner down onto the floor. The scientist gave a choked yell of pain as they moved him. Clint looked down at Bruce’s leg and his eyes widened in shock. Legs just weren’t meant to bend that way. And what he’d assumed to be a shadow at first turned out to be a massive, nearly black bruise circling his entire leg.

Barton’s attention was pulled back to Bruce’s face as the scientist clutched at the bowman’s arms. “Don’t let him t-try to get out,” Banner gasped out, his body trembling. At first, Clint didn’t understand what the other man was talking about, but then he saw Bruce’s panicked eyes. They were bright green.

“Everybody back,” he yelled, scooting over so the doctor’s head was in his lap. The rest of the team arrayed themselves around the room, weapons at the ready. Banner was fighting the transformation, but lost within seconds, arching his back hard as he changed.

The transformation happened in seconds, as always, and despite Clint’s hands on his shoulders, the behemoth instantly tried scrambling to his feet. His broken leg gave out instantly and the Hulk crashed back down to the floor. Barton moved to kneel in front of him, knowing that Bruce wouldn’t let the giant hurt him. “Easy there, Jade Jaws,” he murmured softly. “You need to stay down.”

“Hulk hurt,” the giant said. The tone of his voice mixed with the hurt look in his eyes reminded Clint of a puppy that didn’t know why it was being punished.

“I know you’re hurt, big guy,” the archer said gently. “And we’re gonna get you outta here, but there’s a problem. See that?” he asked, pointing to the door. “That’s the only way out of here, and you’re too big to fit through. You can’t walk so we need to carry you, but you’re too heavy for us.”

The Hulk’s eyes were attentive, focused on Hawkeye. He nodded in understanding. “Cupid want Banner.”

“Yeah, buddy. If you let him out now, then I promise, the next time you’re out, you won’t be here. Deal?”

Those large green eyes closed, and he shrank back down to Bruce, who slumped sideways to the floor, unconscious. Clint moved to lift him, but Tony stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. “Medical’s on their way down here. We shouldn’t move him.” Almost as if on cue, the two of the medics from the jet pushed through the door at the end of the stairs, stretcher in hand. They loaded Bruce onto it and strapped him down, then started out of the room. The rest of the team followed, Thor hauling a handcuffed Hammer behind him.

Clint stayed close to the medics as they carried Bruce onto the jet, though they wouldn't let him get close after they laid him down. As the jet took off, the archer stayed near the medics, watching as they went to work on Banner. Both Steve and Tony tried talking to him a couple times, but he ignored them every time.

As they got close to the tower, the medics stood up. “He’s awake, but still needs rest," one of them said. :You can go in and talk to him, but don’t get him too worked up.”

Clint stepped closer and looked over the scientist. God, was there any part of him that wasn’t bandaged? Bruce’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, but steady. “Hey, buddy,” the archer said as he stepped close to the bed. 

Banner’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, darting around before finally settling on the bowman. The corners of his lips turned up in the faintest of smiles. “Knew you’d come for me,” he mumbled softly

“Of course we came for you. Why wouldn’t we?”

“He said you wouldn’t.”

Clint patted the scientist’s shoulder gently. “Well, he’s an idiot. And you’re an idiot if you believed him.” They sat in silence for a minute before Barton added. “Listen, Bruce, you’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Bruce said, one hand groping across the bed as his eyes closed. Clint took that hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, watching as Banner fell asleep again.


End file.
